


Overwatch: A Glitch In The System

by MTGrey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Swearing, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTGrey/pseuds/MTGrey
Summary: Aiden Reid's chance at a normal life was destroyed, burned alongside everything else he cared about. Not only that, but he found himself becoming untethered from reality by way of "Glitching". However, after discovering that his condition comes with newfound abilities, he becomes involved with the newly reformed "Overwatch" under the codename "Glitch."
Relationships: Hana "D.Va" Song/Original Character(s), Mei-Ling Zhou & Original Male Character(s), Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Kudos: 3





	Overwatch: A Glitch In The System

It was much more than a tingle that ran underneath my skin. It was though someone had connected a live wire to my nerves. My body convulsed as the violent electrical current pulsed through me. Electricity surged down my arms and legs, sinking into my bones and leaving me in an unending state of burning.

And then...nothing.

Complete silence. Freezing cold. A numbness I couldn't explain with words. My fingers and toes felt like steel and my tongue felt like lead, weighting down my jaw. However, there was a feeling of... Weightlessness through it all. Like I was floating in the clouds.

When I opened my eyes, the world was bright, sharp, edged. I took a tentative step forward, stumbling over legs I couldn't feel yet. Only when I finally got a hold of walking did I regain my sight.

I watched the ever burning fire that blazed around me. I couldn't breath, nor could I hear my heart in my chest. I was only half-alive, watching everything and everyone burn. The once great think tank cracked and wilted under the weight of the weightless fire. The light turned black and ascended in the air in dark gray plumes of darkness, and misery. Carrying the dreams and lives of many to another place far beyond the stars. No matter how much effort was given, the fire didn't cease its reign of terror. I could not run, nor could I scream. I only watched as they burned. My home, my family, everything. There flesh turned black as the fire ate greedily at their mangled faces and torn backs. There was no escaping it, the pain, and death it caused, and the dreams it stole from me.

x-o-x-o

As my eyes opened, my limbs recoiled in shock. There was liquid in them, sloshing around my entire body too. Tubes ran up each one of my nostrils and all that met my skin was the warm glass that surrounded. There was binding on my limbs and around my neck. Without a conscious thought, a choice, my body did what any must to survive. With a twitch of my muscles, I was lit ablaze in a spectacle of lights. Colors danced on my skin, a brilliance of reds, blues, and greens, like a glitching computer monitor. I cried out in pain. My muscles were weaker than they should have ever been and there was no mental influence within me. In that moment, I preferred death over that suffering.

I wanted to move, but my own traitorous mind held me prisoner. Shaky, nauseous, weak. The pain went on for so long that I lost sense of time and then I realized where I was. The graphite tiled ceilings. I was in a hospital, sedated and monitored. Out of my hazy vision, figures moved about. I wanted to use my senses, get a feel for whatever this is. But alas, a cocktail of drugs flooded my systems. A chill froze my skin along with the little brain power I could muster.

x-o-x-o

The doctor had the posture of a servicewoman. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. I could never relax around such expressions. I needed a genuine face, possibly a smile, but if not I'd rather they didn't fake it. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Through the examination, she gave commands rather than requests.

The doctor had me lie on my stomach. Next, she examined my flame scarred legs and the inflamed muscles within. When she pressed her fingers on that spot, the glitches returned. A shooting pain exploded up my spine to the top of my head. Immediately, the nurse called the doctor into the hallway. My hands phased through the bad causing my lower half to raise upward. The two left out of the room, presumably to discuss a plan of action.

Throwing my hearing around, I heard the doctor say, "I'm going to inject Triptocaine into that injured muscle, but I'm not expecting much of a permanent result." When she returned, The doctor brandished her weapon. A hypodermic needle. She laid the extra long needle right beside me on the table, it grew as I watched it. I looked away at the wall, trying not to center my attention. Yet, my eyes swung back to it as if out of control. The tube with the medicine never grew. But the needle desired be thrust into my poor, innocent back, which never harmed anyone. The doctor came back, and plunged that needle into the sore place. When the doctor released the medicine, blessed relief! All the pain left.

The nurse asked, "Are you okay?

I said, wearily, "Piece of cake."

When the prodding was over I dropped my eyes to the covers in anticipation. But when I raised them again the room was quite empty; they weren't even in the corridor. My hands stretched over the cold linen like an infant in search of a comforting toy and closed on the thick itchy fabric. I was alone before, but then I felt ever more so. The walls seemed far away and I felt trapped- tethered by tubes.

x-o-x-o

They called it "Cellular Malfunction". That's the scientific name, I prefer "Glitching." It does justice to what's actually happening. You see, my cells. They're splintering and reforming. Over and over. Every day in and day out. I became untethered from reality, phasing in and out, second by second. By age five, I knew two things. The first was pain. Other people thought they knew it, but they didn't know the half. Not that I would deny other people their pain. It's just that when your molecules are tearing and recombining, it's hard to think about anything else.

The second thing was a countdown. It was that the more time passed, the worse things got for me. It became harder to hold myself together. I could barely walk without phasing through the floor. I knew if I didn't find an answer to this I wouldn't be able to live. That ticking clock was my countdown to when the pain got so bad I would completly cease to be. That was it, pain and a countdown to when it would end in agony or... I could end it on my own terms.

It hurt. It hurt that I was still alive. I wanted to scream. Scream at the world, at myself, to stop. If the world could stop for a second, and I along with it, I would weep. I would sob with relief as the pain was taken away, as I was finally, frozen still. Forever encased in time would cease to be. Not moving, not breathing, just...

Still.

It always hurt.

x-o-x-o

The first time I used my abilities was during a routine injection.

This doctor was built like a neanderthal. My eyes rested on the tattoos that played peekaboo up his sleeves. His ears had holes for piercings, as did his nose. I was expecting him to talk like a biker, but he spoke so eloquently. I began to imagine him squeezed into one of those Japanese school-girl uniforms instead. His voice was baritone and rolling. Under the wild black hair that stuck up from being ruffled every few minutes with his spade-like hands, his eyes were a warm brown. The kind that reminds you of all things soft and sweet. He explained everything in words even a child could understand and rounded the whole thing off with a fist bump. I smiled with an inherent falseness. The act pained me. I inquired if the "real doctor" would be coming soon. I expected him to take offense, but he beamed like Christmas had come early.

"Don't worry, lad. I'm here to give you your injection. Your actual doctor will be here soon."

The doctor brandished a needle. He plunged it into my flesh. I shut my eyes tight, losing all vision as my face contorted into a grimace. My teeth were about to break under my mouths pressure as I glitched faster and faster. The shades of light twirled around and in my skin, piercing my skin and bones. I was freezing, a chill rushed through my soul With a howl of pain, I grabbed the doctor's arm. The doctor stiffened to a freeze, his movements coming to a screeching halt. His eyes widened as he wailed through his shut teeth.

A haunting minute passed before he was able to move again. He backed away, taking special care not to touch me again. He rushed out, but making sure to leave me with a single word that defined my meager half-existence.

"Freak."

x-o-x-o

I was mesmerized by the new doctor's tied up blonde hair and ice white lab coat, which reminded me greatly of an angel. Her face had a healthy glow to it and her eyes were kind and warm, as she started at her new patient, me.

"Hello there, I'm Doctor Ziegler. What's your name?" She asked in a thick swiss-german accent, a smile on her face. Doctor Ziegler smiled and presented my seven year old self with a lollipop. I became still and quiet for a moment, sitting further back into my bed.

"Aiden," came out almost like an accident, spilling out of my drawn inward lips. I went to reach for it, but I drew back. Swallowing, I reached forward, phasing completely through the doctor's hand. My eyes lost their harshness, becoming rounder, more glossy. Then all at once my face buckled, my breathing stopped momentarily and tears streamed.

"It's okay. Try again." She encouraged.

I reached out toward the apple and slowly grasped it. My hand was a constant stream of reds, purples, blues, and greens. My heart beat through my throat as I slowly condensed into a solid state...

x-o-x-o

Aiden, Reid, Ziegler. That's the name I was given.

Growing up had been such a baptism of fire. With my constant countdown, I had always asked "how?" and never shied from possible solutions. I knew the truth was be out there somewhere. I expected the truth to be costly, but I searched for it just the same. There was still more to know, but my mind was so full it's overflowing. I guess you could've called them "growing pains," but I saw them more as lessons, painful but necessary. I was nineteen now, and my time kept ticking down. I couldn't forget...

My mother, on the other hand, was one for healing and joy, each day a multitude of tiny things... I can still feel her excitement at seeing a simple flower or the way the light played upon the path. In my own half-existence, it was her that was made me whole, not because it was her job, it was because it was the way she was. As a baker turns flour and water into bread. As God turns seed and water to flower. Mom turned the mundane into fascination and love; she was my heaven, my superhero.

But everything was bound to change.


End file.
